A Study in Khan (Rewrite)
by princessackles
Summary: "Well, if you're so perfect, why are you allowing it? It's because of emotions, isn't it? And emotions make you imperfect," For a moment, she feared that Khan would kill her. He looked like he certainly could, his figure towering above hers. But Molly can fix him. She knows she can. She can fix Khan Noonien Singh. He isn't as emotionless as he believes. Molly Hooper/Khan
1. Chapter 1

**I kept telling you guys that I'd continue this story. Didn't I? Didn't I? Anyway, I did not tell you all that I would be doing a rewrite, so here it is, all rewritten. All the old chapters will be posted today, with the possibility of a new chapter too.**

* * *

Molly Hooper ran her hand through her hair, working her way through the snarls that her fingers ran into. It had been a long day at work, especially since she hadn't been able to get anyone to help her all day. Besides that, there had been two murders this week, and according to Lestrade, the bodies needed to be examined before Wednesday, which was tomorrow. Her footsteps were quick on the tile floors, and seemed to be impossibly loud in the silence of the empty morgue. She was about to lock the door to her office when she heard the slamming of a door. Her pulse quickened, and she paused, her hand positioned on the doorknob to her office. She sucked in a breath, listening. When she heard nothing, she pressed her head to the door, releasing the breath she had been holding. "You're losing it Molly," She whispered, a half laugh escaping.

Then she heard footsteps.

"Stephen?" She questioned, pulling herself away from the door, and walking to the nearby corner. Her heart beat fast in her ribcage, her breath was quick, and she struggled to quiet it. Several moments of silence passed, which did nothing to calm her nerves. "Hello? Who's there?" Once again only silence answered her question. She wasn't imaging it this time. She knew she wasn't. _'Get out of there'_ whispered her instincts, and she obeyed. She moved down the hall towards the doors.

It was then that a horrible scent reached her nose.

She could smell smoke.

She sucked in a breath, trying to sooth her nerves. _'Just get out Molly,'_ she told herself. _'Get out and then call 999.'_ Her pace quickened and she moved towards the staircase that would take her downstairs, where she could get out. When she reached the stairs she was met with orange flames climbing up them.

Already, the smoke was thickening, hanging on the roof. It was getting hard to breath as she hurried in the opposite direction. When she was halfway to her office someone grabbed her wrist and pulled.

Molly was all too aware that the man could be the possible arsonist/murderer, but at the moment he was pulling her out of the building, and she followed him. Only halfway through the building did she realize-the man looked exactly like Sherlock.

* * *

Khan woke, a heavy weight pressing on his ribcage. He stood, trying to breath through the thin layer of smoke that lined the ceiling, and in turn, his lungs. He took two large breaths, allowing himself to think through the haze that covered his mind.

Footsteps were the first thing he focused on. The footsteps were coming from outside the room, loud and clipped, like the person was running-a woman, judging from the sound of heels.

As he approached the sound of the footsteps, he was met with what he expected-a woman. The woman though, incited in him something he hadn't expected. She was strikingly beautiful, a classic beauty that was hard to come by. She stood just a little over 5 feet, her stature lithe. Her hair was pushed over her right shoulder, slightly messed up and tangled. She wore no makeup, which made her slightly vulnerable, and all too human, but in a way, more beautiful. Panic lined her face, but with a hint of stubbornness as she made her way down the hall.

It was obvious that she hadn't seen him yet, since he was standing in a darkened doorway. He gripped her wrist, pulling her roughly behind him. She stumbled at first, but followed after a moment. He wasn't sure where he was going yet, but he did know that getting out was a priority at this moment. The first and one of the only ways he saw out was a second story window. He would survive the fall, but he wasn't sure that the smaller woman would. Right at this moment though, he wasn't sure that there were any other options, and so he pulled her out of the window after him.

Glass shattered, and cut into his skin, and as they fell from the third story window, Khan wrapped his arms around an unconscious Molly Hooper.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was going to take out the scene where Khan breaks her arm, but I decided against it. I just wasn't sure how this chapter would go without that particular scene.**

* * *

Molly woke up on a dirty couch. She smelled like smoke, and her lab coat had a dirty grey quality. Her whole body ached, and red scrapes and minor cuts littered her arms and face. Her eyes hurt, like they had too much dust inside them. She sat upright, realizing what had happened the night before. She was in a basement, with only two couches, a cold cement floor and ugly mustard walls.

"You're awake," Remarked Sherlock from a couch opposite her own.

"And you're alive, Sherlock," She said, relief lacing her voice. Of course, she'd known he was alive for three years now. She had helped him with the fall, helped him fake his death, and she had kept the secret from everyone. Her boyfriend, John, Lestrade, Anderson, the press, everyone. But now, looking at him, sitting across from her, arms crossed and pressed against his chest, she felt a sense of relief.

"I am Khan Noonien Singh," Announced what was apparently the Sherlock look-a-like. He said it in a bored tone, like he had announced it thousands of times, and if he was anything like Sherlock, he probably had.

"How come you look like Sherlock then?" She said, trying to make her tone even. "And talk like him, and walk like him, and act like him?" All of the relief had fled, just as it had filled her just moments before. This wasn't Sherlock, and now she was being held captive by this man, who was probably going to kill her, or worse.

"I have no idea who you are referring to," Khan Noonien Singh growled, a smirk on his face, that didn't match the tone of his voice. "But I assure you, I am not...Sherlock."

The disgust put into Sherlock's name made Molly sick. This man, who was an identical copy of Sherlock, had put every shred of hate and disgust into a single word. He made Sherlock sound so human-so ordinary-which wasn't Sherlock at all, and it hurt like a slap across her face. "Well, Khan Noonien Singh," She said, putting all her hate and disgust into his name. "What makes you so much better than Sherlock?"

He stood, towering over her. "I am better at everything," He snarled. "I am perfect."

"And that's exactly what Sherlock would say," She said, making her shaking legs support her weight as she stood. She wasn't going to let this man insult one of the best men that she had ever met, and she certainly wasn't going to die without showing that she could fight.

"It would be an incorrect statement," Khan said simply, inches away from her face.

"Maybe it would," She snarled. "But no human can be perfect, so your statement would be just as incorrect."

"You will mind your tone," He snarled back. This time Molly was painfully aware at the close proximity that Khan was. His body was nearly pressing against hers, and their faces were centimeters apart. "You are my prisoner. You are alive because I allow it."

Molly stood, speechless for a moment, thinking of a comeback. "Well, if you're so perfect, why are you allowing it? It's because of emotions, isn't it? And emotions make you imperfect," For a moment, she feared that Khan would kill her. He looked like he certainly could, his figure towering above hers, his powerful hands in fists at his side.

Seconds later, those powerful hands had pinned her against the wall, cutting off her air supply. Only one hand strangled her, the other pressed against her arm, just below her shoulder. She could feel the bones bend underneath his grasp, and she struggled to breath. "You will not insult me again." She didn't offer a response, she only struggled against his grasp. He pressed his body closer against hers, and pressed both hands down harder. She felt her arm break, and she bit back tears. She nodded desperately, wanting air, and for his hand to come off her now broken arm.

He released her, watching with an expression of satisfaction as she slid down the wall, sucking in desperate breaths and trying to bite back tears. Every breath was shaky, and waves of pain nearly blinded her.

"I can kill you anytime I wish." He announced it as if he was proud of the fact. "Your only purpose is entertainment. If you continue to fight me, you will no longer serve any purpose." With that, he turned and strode out of the room, locking the door behind him as he went.


	3. Chapter 3

**I know I promised that I would post this last night**

**But it was three in the morning **

**So hopefully you will forgive me.**

**In other news, this story is on AO3 as well, so for any of you that prefer AO3, it's over there under the same name, and the user princessackles. **

* * *

Molly slept for a few hours before waking on the old couch. She stood, and assessed the situation as best she could, trying to look at it the way Sherlock would see it. The room she was in was old, the ceiling sagged, and looked as if there was significant water damage. As to why _perfect _Khan had chosen a less than perfect building, Molly had no idea. Although Molly had been busy lately, she didn't remember Khan being a wanted a criminal or anything of that sort.

She wandered around the room, scanning it for possible escape routes. There was no window, which meant that plan A wasn't any good.

She sighed. _'When in doubt, try the door,'_

Molly moved to the old wooden door, which was the only entrance and exit to the room. It was up two dusty wooden steps, and Molly nearly fell through the second one. Regaining her balance, she ran her fingers along the door, checking the sturdiness of the edges first, and then the middle of the door, and finally, out of desperateness, the doorknob. She shook it and turned it, finally giving up. She ran a hand through her messy hair-and only then remembered-she had hairpins. Hadn't Sherlock picked a lock with one of her hairpins once?

She pulled a hairpin out of her pocked and pushed it into the keyhole, wiggling the hairpin around. There came a snapping sound, and Molly pulled out a broken hairpin

Molly had just stepped back from the door, muttering under her breath in a frustrated manner when the door swung open. Out of surprise, Molly stumbled down the steps, only just catching herself on the wall. She groaned as a shot of pain went through her arm.

"There is no point in trying to escape," Informed Khan simply. She couldn't miss the amusement that was evident in Khan's eyes. A shadow of a smile darted over his face.

"Yeah, figuring that out now," She said, still breathless, and leaning over in pain. She slid down against the wall, trying to avoid passing out. Spots danced in and out of her vision.

"Is there anything you need?" He inquired, taking a step further into the room. Even so, his tall, muscular figure was blocking the door. The amusement was gone, and concern seemed to be evident. "Some pain killers would be nice." She said, allowing herself a half grin. "And maybe a cuppa. And while your at it...maybe you could let me go?"

"What makes you believe the final one is an option?" He inquired, this time a real smile darting over his face just for a moment. He tilted his head at her slightly before stepping further into the room, shutting the door behind him. Molly had not doubt that it was still locked, and decided not to try it.

"Well, there aren't many people that save someone from a burning building, just to kidnap me, now are there?" She said, standing upright, and moving out of his way as he walked toward the couch. The spots were gone, but the pain remained, and Molly had to take deep even breaths to keep herself from crying.

He walked over to the couch, swinging the door shut behind him. "You have questions," He asked-no-not asked-stated.

"Yes," She said quickly, seizing the chance to ask questions. "Why did you save me, then kidnap me? Why me? Who are you?"

"I saved you because I had a moment of weakness," Khan stated simply, as if he wouldn't of saved her otherwise. "At the moment, you serve sufficient entertainment. In the near future, there will come a need for assistance, or possibly leverage, you will become quite useful then."

"Le-" Khan held up a hand to stop Molly's sentence, and so she just mumbled, "Okay," Underneath her breath.

"I am Khan Noonien Singh, as I previously stated. I am going to assume you did not mean by name, and you meant my purpose. I am in a very delicate time period, that I should not be in. I would prefer to leave things intact, but if the need for violence arises, I will not hesitate to take that route. I will do anything to get back to the time I was in. I had pressing matters at that moment-what is happening now is rather inconvenient."

Khan paused, making sure Molly was satisfied. She nodded in response, even though she was far from believing him. She liked listening to him talk though-the rich baritone voice seemed to deadpan most of the time, yet it still seemed as though he was conveying emotion with every word. He had a formal air about him, which made his voice seem even more interesting.

"You," He said finally, standing and staring her in the eyes. "Are nothing compared to me. I owe you nothing. You are as important as the dust under my feet." He turned, and started towards the door.

"That's not true," Said Molly calmly. "Everyone's important, even when they're compared to you. You gave me reasons why I'm important to you, and you're here, asking me what I need and answering my questions. That means you care-even if it's just a little."

Khan turned to face her, and she was worried that he'd lash out. But he didn't. He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to explain. "And I suppose you'd know human emotions so well."

"I had a friend like you once," Molly said, not backing down. "He's dead now." Khan raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't think this was the way to start a conversation-in fact it was nearly the same reaction Sherlock had. "But he always acted arrogant, and as if he didn't care about anyone in the world. He acted...emotionless. But, if you really noticed, he would look sad when he thought...no one...could see him. Sometimes there were glimmers of amusement, or anger, or sometimes even happiness, but mostly sadness. And it took me a long time to figure out why he looked sad. But I figured out. He knew he was going to lose something important to him-and it was almost as if he had already lost it. He was saving himself from hurting."

Khan looked angry again, but he remained still, his eyes flashing.

"So what did you lose? What are you losing? It must be something important, for you to be this way," She said quietly. "You've numbed yourself to emotions, because they can only hurt you." She shook her head. "But you still feel them sometimes, and when you think no one is looking you let them out, just a little. Because that's the thing about emotions. You can never completely get rid of them."

"You know nothing of me, or what I am going through." Khan said stiffly.

"But I think I do!" She protested, her voice rising a little. He was quiet, looking at her, waiting for her explanation. As to why he hadn't lashed out yet, she wasn't sure. "It's family isn't it?" She said finally. "Friends can hurt you...but only when it's family...or someone who's close enough to family, do you really block everything out."

Khan was quiet, and she expected him to lash out, or be violent in some way. She certainly didn't expect him to explain himself, and he didn't. Instead he stood there, completely still.

"My mum, she left us when I was ten." She swallowed hard. "My dad, he did his best, but my sister, she was fifteen, she was closer to my mom than I was. She killed herself three months after my mum left. My dad, he started drinking, and he got fired because of it. We didn't have a good relationship." She paused, watching Khan's face. "I left him when I turned eighteen. My mum hurt him and my sister hurt him, and I hurt him, and he just-I guess he just blocked it all out."

She watched Khan, studying his stiff movements and his cold expression. He turned, and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry," She blurted, causing him to pause at the door. "For whatever you're losing. I'm sorry."

He didn't turn to look at her, even though she knew that he had heard her.


	4. Chapter 4

**This isn't a great chapter, and I'm sorry for it. Also, I don't have a medical background, but I did break my arm in the woods once and they had to treat it for me.**

**I realize that this isn't a medical background, but we can pretend it is.**

* * *

A gnawing hunger ate a pit in Molly's stomach. '_Shut up,' _she thought at it, turning her head up to stare at the ceiling. Her stomach didn't shut up, and just complained louder. She wished that she had some way of knowing how long she'd been locked up in Khan's basement. Some lingering feeling protested that she was going to starve down here.

'_Khan wouldn't let you starve,' _whispered the little part of her that had already fallen for Khan. _'He's too human.'_

Molly brought her knees up, pressing her legs against her chest and resting her chin on top of her knees. She was sitting with her back against the wall, facing the ugly, dusty couch on the other side of the room. She was bored. Incredibly, boringly, bored. She frowned, and then gnawed on the inside of her cheek, staring at the grimy blue couch. Her eyes scanned the grimy blue couch, trying to pick out a pattern beneath the layers of of dust that had been ground into the coarse fabric.

She had long abandoned her coat and sweater in favor of her thinner tank top, since the basement had become an oven. The two items of clothing sat on the couch, but you would of thought that they had been in the basement as long as the dusty blue couch. Layers of dust and ash clung to the fabric of her clothes, staining them an ugly brown.

The more she thought about her decision to take off the thick shirts the more she realized that she was unpleasantly exposed. There was a certain vulnerability that came along with the comfort of the thinner top. In spite of the heat, Molly shivered, rubbing her broken arm with her good one, feeling her fingers brush against her skin. She bit her lip, glancing towards the door that separated her from Khan.

After about two hours of searching for possible escape routes, Molly had given up, rather discouraged. She had been trying to handle her captivity logically, tried to look at it the way Sherlock would of seen it, but Molly wasn't Sherlock. Not even close. And Khan wasn't stupid. He had been careful to block all possible escape routes. The way she saw it now was as it was. She was Khan's vulnerable, considerably weaker captive, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Lost in her thoughts, she almost didn't notice that Khan had entered the room. She probably wouldn't of noticed if the door hadn't squeaked. Khan himself had been stealthy about entering the room.

Startled out of her thoughts, she glanced towards the door that she was sitting next to and almost scowled.

She probably should of scowled.

Probably would of scowled.

And then she saw what Khan was carrying.

It was a first aid kit, the simple type that they kept at the morgue in case someone cut themselves and needed a band-aid. It was just a white box, a red plus on the side with red handles. She scanned it, and then him, but didn't move.

She didn't even acknowledge him except the turn of her head.

She was supposed to be mad at him.

There was just one problem.

_She wasn't mad at him._

He walked past her and sat on the couch, setting the first aid kit next to him on the couch. He didn't say anything, didn't motion to her, didn't even give the darting smile of amusement that he made when he walked in the room. He didn't even look smug. Somehow, the stoic look on his face irritated Molly more than the smug look that he usually carried.

She _was not _going to acknowledge him first.

Khan seemed fine with that, and he sat completely still, back straight, arms folded across his chest. He looked right at her, staring at her intently. Molly, eventually crumbling under his gaze, shifted her own gaze to her knees, studying her skin intently. Her hair hung in front of her eyes, but every once in a while, against her will, she moved her gaze, just slightly, to look up at him through the strands of her brown hair.

The silence got to Molly first. She brought her hand up through her hair, sweeping it back. She glared at him intently, trying to look somewhat angry. "Did you want something?"

There it was. The amusement darted across Khan's face so quickly that Molly couldn't be sure that it was there at all. He motioned towards the couch, pointing to the space next to him. "Sit," was all he said.

Without thinking, she pushed herself up with her bad hand, and had to bite her lip to keep a scream from escaping. She sunk back down, letting the white spots clear from her eyes.

Khan didn't make any move to help her, not that she expected him to.

Once the pain had faded, she stood and walked to the couch, sitting on the space that he had indicated. He took her broken arm, and she flinched as pain shot up it in waves.

"Careful!" She snapped, trying to hold back tears. They leaked out, against her will, and with her good hand she desperately pushed them away.

Khan seemed genuinely concerned, and tried to move her had even more gently, but it didn't make a difference. Blinding waves of pain pushed their way through her arm, nearly blinding her. Tears kept coming, even though she was trying to keep them back as well as she could.

Khan watched her facial expressions intently, with concern on his face. It softened all his features, even his cheek bones, which someone could of cut themselves on. It even reached his eyes, and nothing ever completely reached his eyes.

"I'm going to make my way up your arm. When I get to a part that hurts more than the rest of your arm, stop me."

She nodded her agreement. She didn't trust herself to speak, and she wasn't even sure she could. The lump in her throat was horrible, and she felt like she might vomit. Khan moved his fingers up her arm, pressing gently. He reached just above her elbow, and a wave of pain nearly made her pass out. She must of choked out a stop, or Khan must of noticed her facial expression, and he stopped.

She did pass out at some point, but when she came to, Khan had just finished wrapping from her elbow up to her shoulder. Something kept her from moving it-a stick or something like it-but he had just wrapped bandages around whatever he had held her arm in place with. She tried to sit up, trying to fill her lungs with air. Nausea won over and she sunk back into the couch.

Khan looked even more concerned now, if possible. He reached out, his hand wrapping around her good arm gently.

"Are you hot?" He asked, glancing towards the discarded coat and sweater.

She swallowed hard, and nodded, still trying to catch her breath, which still hadn't returned. She couldn't fill her lungs with air, and it was starting to cause her to worry.

"Lie down," he ordered, moving off the couch. She didn't protest, and he helped her slide into a comfortable lying position on the couch. He grabbed her jacket and carefully wrapped it around her bare arms.

"'m'hot," She mumbled, trying to shrug off the coat that felt too constricting and warm. Khan ignored her, and she was too weak to pull the coat off on her own. She huffed in irritation, though she wasn't sure it even came out. Her lungs were too tight in her chest. Black edged into her vision, and she fell asleep with Khan's worried face in her vision.

It was a good look on him.

A soft one.

A kind one.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter didn't play out how it was supposed to. And I had a hard time finding a place to end it. But anyway.**

* * *

Light hit Molly's skin, spreading warmth across it. She tugged whatever was on top of her closer to her chest. She buried herself in the silky fabric and inhaled deeply. The silk of the blankets ran against her skin, feeling cool and soft as it brushed against her bare arms.

The fact that she was in an actual bed, with actual blankets didn't register yet. Sleep's hold was still too tight, causing her thought process to be blurry. She didn't care. She just inhaled deeply, the scent of breakfast, clean sheets, and the slight scent of Khan mingling. She didn't even register the what the scents were yet. They were just scents, playing in her nose.

When sleep finally abandoned her, she sat upright. Sheets fell off her head, falling to her sides, where they stayed for the moment. Molly's thought process was still broken, but she did realize that she was sitting on a queen sized bed, dressed in Khan's clothes. A moment later, the actual situation came together.  
She was sitting on a queen sized bed, dressed in Khan's clothes, her wrist no longer hurt-at all-and she was fairly sure that it wasn't broken anymore. To make things even better, a plate of eggs, bacon and waffles sat on the bedside table next to her. The scent of food made her abandon any other mysteries at this point, and she hungrily swallowed all the food on the plate.

When she had finished eating, she sat the plate aside and slid to her feet. They were bare, and she flinched when they came in contact with the freezing tile floor. She padded to the bathroom which was on the other side of the room, door slightly ajar. She opened the door even farther, and stepped inside. A pair of neatly folded jeans and a black t-shirt sat on the edge of the sink-yet another mystery. Molly slid out of Khan's clothes and showered. She worked all the dust and ash out of her hair and off her skin, then quickly dried herself off, and slid into the clean clothes. She folded Khan's clothes, and then padded back out of the bathroom.

Khan was there when she stepped out of the bathroom. He nearly gave her a heart attack. She sucked in a sharp breath, and a squeak escaped her closed up throat.

Khan ignored her surprise, and sat down on the bed. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded quickly. Her throat was still uncomfortably tight, but she managed to let a sentence out. "What did you do?"

A smug smirk came to rest on Khan's lips. "I told you I was perfect, did I not?"

A scowl flashed across Molly's face, as Khan once again brought up the fact that he was perfect. "Yes, but I don't see how that has anything to do with you healing me."

"I am a genetically enhanced human being. This also extends to my blood."

Once again realization sank in, but this time Molly felt a twang of horror. "You injected me with your blood?"

"You were dying," Khan pointed out.

"People don't die from a broken arm," Retorted Molly, folding her arms across her chest.

"But they do die from shock," Khan responded calmly. "I supposed that you would prefer to live. And at this moment, you are of more use to me alive. If you wish to die though, that could easily be arranged."

Khan's cold tone was met with silence from Molly's end. She could sense that Khan's split second decision to inject her with his blood had another motive besides her possible use as a bargaining chip, but for now, she let it rest. Khan looked at her curiously, as if he expected an answer. She knew that her sudden silence was more likely to drive him insane than if she had argued with him further-and that's what she was relying on.

She turned on him, walking back into the bathroom. She ran her fingers through her wet, snarly hair, beginning the tedious task of putting it into a braid. Khan didn't move.

There was a long silence, which Molly was glad for. It gave her time to think of her next move.

Escaping now would be pointless, and she knew it. It should have been her first move when she had woken up-but her thought process had been so broken and tangled in those moments after sleep that it hadn't occurred to her. She was sure that was what Khan had been planning on. There was a window in the bedroom, but she knew she couldn't break it without Khan hearing-another thing that he was planning on.

She hadn't actually tried the door yet, though she was sure that Khan would lock it behind him when he left-assuming that he left her in the little bedroom. She was betting on it, but she didn't know for sure yet. For all she knew, the man would take her back down to the basement. Lost in her thoughts, she finished the braid, and walked out of the bathroom.

Khan was still sitting on the bed when she emerged from the little room.

She sighed, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the door frame. Fine. She'd bite. "What do you want?"

"I told you," He said simply, glancing her over.

"No you didn't," She protested. "Not really. You told me what you wanted with me. You told me that you wanted to get back to wherever you're from. But that's not what you want. And even if that was what you wanted, it's not all you wanted. I'm stuck here anyway. You might as well tell me."

A look flashed over Khan's face. It was fleeting, and Molly couldn't place it, but she could see a slight tinge of uncertainty in his eyes. He didn't say anything. He just continued looking at her.

"Or not," Molly mumbled, suddenly feeling tiny again.

She was about to move to the other side of the room when Khan stood. She expected the man to storm out of the room, as he did when he was angry with her, but instead he walked to her. He towered above her, and he was inches from her.

His presence wasn't intimidating though. Not like all the other times he had been so close to her.

"You asked me what I was losing."

The words couldn't of taken Molly anymore off guard. She had asked about it, and they had a whole conversation about it just days ago, but now, the idea of actually talking to Khan about it was intimidating.

"Do you still want to know?" Khan asked, his voice a low whisper. One of his hands gently took hold of her arm, just above her elbow. There was something tender about the gesture. A mixture of things, some that she couldn't place, and some that she could were on his face, and in the gesture. It seemed as if he was afraid that she might leave, or that he might hurt her. Regret, pain and sadness were prominent in the normally cold eyes.

A terrifying feeling bubbled up inside Molly's chest. It begged her to explore him. It begged her to find out about his past, and about his world, and about what he was losing. It begged her to trace her fingers across his face. It begged her to learn every little thing about him. Yet, the feeling begged her to pull away, to immediately put to rest anything she was feeling-begged her to deny him.

"Of course I do," She mumbled, eyes trained on his chest. She sucked in a breath, and closed her eyes. Fear, excitement and nervousness welled within her and she bit her lip, as if the feelings might come tumbling out of her mouth.

And that's how Molly wound up sitting next to Khan on a queen sized bed, while he told her his life story, with the most vulnerable look in his eyes.

And that's how Molly realized that she cared for Khan.

And that's how Molly ended up kissing Khan's cheek gently.

And that's how Molly found Khan's hand on her cheek.

And that's how Molly realized

that

she

loved

Khan.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay. So a nice guest reviewer told me that I should use Khan's POV more, and it kinda took me off guard, because honestly, I just gave up on writing Khan's POV, since he's such an intelligent and complex character, and I just felt as if I wasn't doing him justice. Honestly, I don't think I did very well with his POV, but hopefully it isn't awful.**

**Also, I should mention that there's a slight time skip with Khan's POV, but when I revert back to Molly, it will go back to where I left off last chapter.**

**Also, I should mention that I have never ever ever written a romantic scene in my life so hopefully this is okay. And not too out of character.**

**I messed up this chapter a lot.**

**Also, a lot of this chapter was inspired by an amazing piece of fanart that I saw. It's by lexieken on deviantart, and it's titled A Study In Pinky, if you want to find it. It's a Sherlolly piece, but it seems to fit this chapter really well.**

* * *

Every fiber of Khan's being tingled. His heightened senses were in overdrive as he slowly brought his fingers away from her face. His lips released hers with a soft exhale. His fingers traced along her jawline, and in the deafening silence he could hear her rapid heartbeat..

"Do you hate me?" His voice was a whisper, lips only just parted from hers. Every tiny piece of him longed to kiss her again-begged him to touch her face. Yet, every fiber of him wished that he could deny the soft, tender girl in front of him. It was wrong, falling in love. Caring for her was _wrong. __  
_

Caring is not an advantage.

But in this moment, with her lips so close, it was looking like the better option.

"Why would I hate you?" Her voice was questioning.

"I killed people," He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, just enjoying feeling her. She closed her eyes tight, and her fingers moved up to hold tight to the collar of his shirt. A long silence hung in the air, and it threatened to suffocate the augment.

His fingers worked their way into her hair. He clung to her, just for this moment, in the soft silence. And he begged. If he could have one thing-if he could protect one thing-if he could keep one thing-please just let it be her. Let it be the one person in the whole universe who understood, and didn't shy away. Just please-let her be the one person that he was allowed to love with all of his heart. Because he did. He loved Molly Hooper with every last section of his heart.

Just when he thought that maybe she wouldn't respond, she let out a long slow breath. "That doesn't make you a bad person,"

"What does it make me?"

"It makes you Khan."

There was another long silence, but this time it was comfortable. It wasn't the looming silence that they had shared only moments earlier, but an easy shared silence.

"I love you," was the softly uttered phrase that broke through the silence.

As for who said it-

no one was really sure.

* * *

Molly listened to Khan's story in silence. Just the previous day Khan had been her stoic captor-a man as cold as ice. But now as he spoke to her, a vulnerable side of him appeared, in his tone and in his eyes. He recounted the scientists who bred and trained him and the other augments. He recounted the eugenic wars and how the augments were condemned to death for their mistakes. He told of how they froze themselves in a cryogenic sleep. And then he told of Admiral Marcus, and how the Starfleet officer woke Khan in order to start a war with an alien race. Khan, after being backed into a corner by Admiral Marcus was concerned for his crew's safety, so he smuggled them into the weapons that Khan had designed for Admiral Marcus. His voice held pain as he told Molly that he was caught, and his crew was taken from him. He was quiet, and tears glistened in the normally cold eyes.

She reached up, fingers brushing along his jawline. She pressed her head into his shoulder. "I'm sorry," The words came out slow and quiet.

She really, honestly felt sorry for him. However, the woman was aware of the close proximities and the intimate situation. She almost expected the augment to act hostilely.

He didn't.

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, playing with it in his free hand. His other hand came up, gripping the collar of her shirt.

"Why must you apologize for something you took no part in?" His breath was warm against her head. She relished his closeness as she found her fingers exploring his collarbone.

"Because," She whispered. Her heart was threatening to beat out of her chest and in the intense moment she wasn't able to come up with any better reasons. She could sense his amusement, and with her head against his shoulder, she could feel a soft almost laugh-more of a breath than anything else.

"That does not qualify as an argument," It was almost a teasing sentence. His grip on her shirt loosened, and fingers moved up to play on her cheek.

"Yes it-"

Before she could finish the protest, Khan's lips were on hers, soft, desperate and warm. She didn't pull away, even though every fiber of her being screamed at her to. This wasn't love-at least not on his part. She should of known the tricks that he would use by now-pulling her in, convincing her that he was innocent, thereby gaining her willing consent as a bargaining chip, or maybe even for entertainment.

But that was the tricky part, because she loved Khan with all her heart.

Maybe she had a type.

Despite the feelings of possible betrayal, Molly honestly couldn't care much about anything except kissing Khan. She drank up every second of the kiss. Her arms pulled his head closer, and she hungrily took in every moment. When they pulled apart, Molly sucked in a deep breath, breathing in his scent.

"Do you hate me?" Khan's question broke the electric silence.

Molly's voice caught in her throat for a moment. She knew why he asked the question, but she didn't want to give her answer yet, so she swallowed hard and delivered a question of her own. "Why would I hate you?"

"I killed people," He said softly, pushing his forehead against hers. She gripped the collar of his shirt and paused, collecting her thoughts for her response.

Khan certainly hadn't left out the part where he bombed a section of Starfleet called Section 31. He also hadn't left out the part where he hit Starfleet Headquarters, costing many people their lives. Molly honestly didn't know how she felt about that. Of course, she didn't like the idea of innocent lives being lost, but from what she understood, it was the only way Khan could see to get his crew out alive.

His family.

He pressed her forehead to his collarbone in a tight, yet gentle hug. His fingers pushed through her thick brown hair. "That doesn't make you a bad person," She sucked in a breath, feeling chills run up and down her back.

There was something in the way Khan held her, as if he was holding something incredibly fragile in his arms, and he was terrified that it might break, so he didn't want to hug it too tight, yet he was afraid that he would lose it, so he needed to hold it close.

"What does it make me?"

The answer to this came easily. "It makes you Khan."

Molly was sure she said I love you.

But she could of sworn that she heard Khan mumble it.


End file.
